Page 85 of Tactical Lies

Nothing more than instinct had her whipping out her hands, and when she found something to hang onto, her fingers curled around it of their own accord.

Her body jerked to a halt.

Stopping its descent abruptly.

Pain jerked through her shoulder, and the weight of another person hanging onto her almost made her let go.

Probably would have, but as she flailed wildly about, her feet were able to find some sort of purchase.

It wasn't much.

With all the rain, everything wasn't just wet, it was slippery to the point of barely being able to keep a grip on it. The wind only made it that much worse.

“Becca!”

Someone screamed her name, but it wasn't the man clinging to her stomach, his legs kicking wildly and almost making her lose her grip.

The voice came from somewhere above her.

“Becca!”

That sounded like … Connor?

All of a sudden, a bright light blinded her, and she cried out and quickly closed her eyes, so unprepared to be able to see anything that wasn't dark and rain and the odd glimpse of the woods that the sudden light sent pain stabbing through her skull.

“Connor?” she called out.

“Right here, moonlight,” his soothing voice assured her.

Tears flooded down her cheeks, joining the steady stream of water. When she looked up, she could see his face as he’d adjusted the beam so it wasn't shining directly into her face.

“I thought you were ...” Becca trailed off unable to say the word.

“Ditto,” he agreed.

“She’s not going to live so say your goodbyes,” a voice snarled right beside her ear, and she realized that whoever had knocked her off the cliff had shifted so he was pressed right against her back and reaching for the hand that clung to an old tree root.

It was the gun man.

She knew she’d shot him, thought he was dead, but he must have survived and come after her.

Now he had her.

She was too weak, too exhausted, and nowhere near strong enough to be able to stop him from taking her down with him.

Maybe she would survive the fall.

But maybe not.

And even if she did, she might wind up wishing she hadn't.

“You're not taking her away from me,” Connor growled.

“Oh, I'm taking you down with us,” gun man sneered, and she felt one of the hands wrapped around her waist like a vice move away.

Becca knew what he was going to do. He was going to grab the weapon that he almost definitely had on him, and he was going to shoot at Connor. Even though Connor was in a better position than either of them he wasn't going to move away from the edge so long as she was hanging there, seconds away from falling.

If she wanted to save the man she loved, she was going to have to sacrifice herself.

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